Diary of a half-blood (Chapter three up and WIP for four!)
by Saltpath
Summary: This is about a half-blood named Thistle Sharp. She is depressed because everyone thinks she is mad and she KNOWS she isn't, she just had a big mouth when she was younger. We're gonna see Butch and Drew and our other friends soon! PLEASE R&R! This IS my first story! :D
1. Chapter 1 - Diary

_**Hai! Saltpath here! So, I was bored last night (Like MIDNIGHT!) so I wrote this. It's about a half-blood who thinks she's going insane. If anyone likes it, I'll start writing about how she goes to camp half-blood in third person! I know that I probably got half the grammar wrong, and the story's going nowhere (For now! _), but please give it a go!**_

I don't know why I'm actually writing this. They told me I didn't have to. That they weren't forcing me to do this. They always insist they aren't forcing me to do anything. I know better. They are subconsciously making me WANT to write it. I'm not stupid. Normally I don't fall for it. Today... I did, but it's because I want to. I've always wanted to keep a diary. But... Why I'm actually doing it... I don't KNOW, OK!

A diary. Sure. So. What do I write? Ugh. I just chewed my pen. I'm such a geek. That's what they call me at school, anyway. I don't understand all the stereotypes about bullies. About how they're huge towering mountains of flesh or tall, willowy trees. Nah, not willowy trees, willow trees. I mean, compared to the stereotypes of the female bully, they're identical. Both stick thin, (Literally, in the trees' case), and they each have long lush strands coming out of the top. Meh. Those types don't tend to bother with me.

My "Personal bully" is about the size of a dwarf and twice as plump. Her hair...It's like one of those creepy puppets you get with the occasional threadbare piece of wool sticking out. Do you know? Or don't you? Maybe the orphanage is the only place on the planet where they stock them. I don't know who I'm addressing this to, but it's almost like someone's going to read it. If you're reading this, shut this RIGHT NOW! How would you like it if I... OK, I'm scaring myself now. Nobody will ever find this or read this. I hope the monsters don't. At night, they come looking for me. In daylight too, but nobody notices. It's one of the reasons I get bullied by a girl who's a victim herself! I see them though. The man at the gates with only one eye. The woman who I ran from. She had snakes for hair.

I think I'm insane. Why else would I need an army of counsellors? A... Helper. They think I'm special needs. I only have minor ADHD! They don't need to...

This is too depressing. I can't write any more in case they get rid of it.

Geek out.

Or should I say – or write, whatever! – This?

Thistle out...?

Beats me. OK, here's something.

Sharp out!

Yeah. Thistle Sharp. I'm soft as feathers! My name's a joke!

I'm a joke.

My life's a joke.


	2. Chapter 2 - The owl pin

_**`Kay, this is chapter two, written: In the third person! :) We're still with Thistle though! **_

_**Thank you SO much to luvcat for the positive review! I'd appreciate it if anyone points out the mistakes I make when writing, but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE do not write hate like: "This story sucks!" Even if it does! I try my best! **__** So without any further ado, chapter two:**_

**Chapter two:**

It was the harsh clang of the morning bell that woke Thistle from her troubled, light sleep. Yawning, she dragged herself out of her thin mattress and almost fell through the floorboards as the second bell sent violent vibrations through the weak wood. The lanky girl swore as she clutched the iron bedstead for balance. Then she clamped a pale hand over her mouth. Swearing was prohibited in 'The Oakwell Orphanage for the Care of Abandoned or Parent-or-Carer less Children'. It was known by its younger inhabitants as 'Oakhell Orphanage', and the name fitted the grim institution perfectly. The food was edible, but it looked and smelt a lot like mush. The rooms were the size of cupboards and were dusty, with cobwebs stretched across the sagging walls that had been covered with a peeling layer of gray-blue paint in a desperate attempt to lift the young charges' spirits. The once baby-blue walls did nothing of the sort. In fact, they did the opposite, making the children and teens depressed and giving them a slightly unnerving feeling of claustrophobia.

Thistle raced over to her ancient cupboard and carefully prised open one of the drawers at an angle (It fell out if you didn't), to receive the shock of her life. "M- My clothes...?!"

Indeed, the grimy drawer was completely void of clothes. Of anything really, but a tiny silver glint in the back corner, half-hidden among the filth. Holding her breath, Thistle carefully manoeuvred her skinny hand to the spark, half-expecting a spider to make its way onto her exposed fingers. Suddenly her fingertip brushed something hard and cold. Excited, now that she knew the mystery object wasn't simply an empty sweet wrapper, Thistle scrabbled around, trying to get a grip on it. Her hand finally closed around something. Triumphant for the first time in what felt like years - Oh, it probably wasn't _YEARS_, just months – Thistle held the item that seemed to have been calling for her and held it up to the dim light of the light bulb that hung from a string above her bed. Immediately, the slim girl caught her breath in a shocked gasp. It was a pin, an owl pin. But something about it... The feathers were so beautifully crafted, like every detail had been thought out ahead of time. As Thistle held it up to the shadowy light of the bulb, it seemed to wink at her.

Thistle stretched up and opened the main doors of the cheap antique wardrobe and realised with a jolt that all her clothes had been neatly hung in row with hangers that Thistle hadn't even known existed. Not bothering to complain, Thistle pulled on some plain black trousers and a white tom with a scribbled Picasso drawing on it and the artists signature below. _I wear nerdy tops like this to mufti day, and then I wonder why they call me a geek! _Fumed Thistle inwardly. Outwardly, though, she was picking out a simple black tracksuit top to cover up the pin that she had pinned to the t-shirt.

Thistle Sharp was getting ready for an ordinary day of school.

This one would prove extraordinary.

_**I know it's a bit short, but I get distracted if I write too long! See you next time, and please review! **___


	3. Chapter 3 - Hallucinations

_**Hai, guys, I'm back with a new chapter! I'm gonna be trying extra hard on this one so that it's longer, so, all of you have fun and if you haven't already, R&R! The whole "Long" Thing seems to be working well! (So far!)**_

**Chapter three! (Finally!): **

It was the last day of term, and to Thistle's credit, she hadn't been expelled yet. It _was_, however, her second school that year. She had been permanently excluded from the last one for 'antisocial behaviour'. What a great way to start year seven.

As Thistle was shoved to the back of her classmates, she felt a prickling sensation go down her spine, and did a double-take as a long blonde-haired girl swept past her. Thistle narrowed her eyes slightly at her. _ Is she new? I haven't seen her around here before... _The schoolgirl sighed and was about to make her way through the now-empty doorframe when the beautiful girl spun around and bared her teeth at Thistle. No, not teeth. Fangs.

Thistle stumbled backwards and tripped over a pencil that seemed to have 'mysteriously' appeared in her way. As she landed, flat on her bum, she saw a pencil-less Millie Simons standing over her.

"Oops..." Mouthed Millie menacingly as Thistle seethed.

"Now, settle down, girls!" called the head teacher, Miss Roux, with her slightly accented voice. "Today, you shall be taught by a... A..." She turned to a boy who was standing, rather awkwardly, squashed between the headmistress and a desk. "Who do you call a teacher who ees not normally teaching you...?"

"Like, you mean a substitute, miss?" He was trying not to laugh; Thistle could see that as she pulled herself to her feet.

"_Merci_, yes, a substeetuite, as you say!"

_The school must be pretty badly funded, seeing as the teacher was in France and couldn't speak English a year ago! _Thought Thistle numbly, her mind still reeling from the... incident with the new girl.

"Now, welcome _Monsieur _Breeze!"

A man limped in. He was wearing a woolly winter hat. Grunting, he plonked himself down in the desk, nodding curtly at Miss Roux. "`Kay, ya can go now," He grunted.

Thistle noted that this man held some resemblance to a gorilla.

"You, sit down!" He barked pointing at her. Thistle scampered over to the desk she shared with her friend, Rose. By 'Friends', they were both loners, shared plant names and both hallucinated together. They sometimes saw the same things. That made Thistle wonder. What if...

As if to prove her point, Rose whispered, "The girl. Did you see the tee-"

"SHUT _UP_! I do _NOT _tolerate whispering!" The whole class fell into shocked silence as Mr Breeze roared at the top of his voice. "My name is Theodore Breeze, but you'd better call me Theo!"

Frantic nods and hushed "Yes, Si- Theo!"s.

"Now, I come from America. So, all you English kids might make fun of my accent, but I can make fun of yours!"

More bows and scrapes.

"Thank you. Now I'm gonna do an inspection!"

_An inspection? What?_

The giant marched around the classroom, occasionally stopping and sniffing random students. He came to an abrupt halt when he came to the young woman who had snarled at Thistle; she was literally a young woman, being was identical to any of the twenty year-old models often found lying in awkward positions on the covers of glossy magazines, if not a little smaller.

"Name."

The tension that hung in the atmosphere seemed to rise a notch.

"My name is Grace, _Theo_!"

"Full name."

"Grace. I don't have a second name." At this, the whole class collapsed with laughter.

"I'll be keeping an eye on you, _Grace_." The girl's eyes flashed red, and Thistle and Rose flinched in unison. As though he sensed their movement, Theo turned slowly towards them, almost like a poisonous snake was behind him. "You two. Names."

Rose and Thistle froze, like burglars stuck in a searchlight after robbing the queen.

"_NAMES_!"

"R-Rose Silver, Sir! I mean, Theo!"

Theo turned to Thistle. "And you?"

Thistle's gaze darted around, begging for help silently. "T-T-Th-Thistle..."

"When I ask for your name, I want your _full _name!"

Thistle looked like she was about to burst into tears on the spot. "S- Sharp. Thistle Sharp," She whispered, mortified. _Can I die now? Or sink through the floor! Just get me outta this place! _

Satisfied and seemingly unaware of the giggles and nudges the rest of the class seemed to be emitting, Theo observed the two quivering girls critically. "Not much of you, but after a bit of training, you'll be fast, I can grant you that." He marched back to the front of the classroom, leaving the two friends bewildered.

_**Not a great ending, but it's my longest one yet! Tell me what you liked and what you didn't, please! **_

_**Salty out!**_


End file.
